


GRAVITY

by aph_alpaca



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 07:01:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4170450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aph_alpaca/pseuds/aph_alpaca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter how much we pretend, gravity will never be the answer as to why people fall in love... But who is to blame when a human and a devil become more than just... a customer and a salesman...?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Brief Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> You should know I literally make most of my stories up as I go, and that I am not to be trusted.   
> But I do mean well for entertainment purposes. Thank you and please enjoy my little tale.

No matter how much we pretend, gravity will never be the answer as to why people fall in love. Many can come up with what they label as scientific answers, but science, much as anything people will ever come to worship, changes. There are things that do not need explanation, stories that do not need endings, and dreams, as much as we might curse ourselves for, that do not need accomplishment. For in the end, we as people, do not need much in the terms of quantity to be happy but more on the side of value. To love and be loved…. It is a song that bounds its two dancers with enough rhythm to move the heart and enrich the soul in the culture of the other’s being yet curses the two lovers to trap themselves in a romanced carelessness which takes the end of the song or a stolen partner to awaken from, being forced to take in reality of the area around you much like a toddler being fed dinner of a food they have grown a distaste for except the dancefloor is not as welcoming as a mother’s embrace. And oh, how when one falls, how relieving it would be to push the blame onto gravity for such a fall. A fall so marvelous, so dazzling, and yet so heart breaking…. Yes, if only it was gravity’s fault.   
…

The night air still swept through London with an unforgiving chill and wetness that beckoned the pedestrians who were unfortunate enough to get caught in it as if it was nature warning her young to stay indoors when danger lurked just beyond her yard. However, like always, life went on despite such warnings went ignored. The nature of Londoners were strange enough in itself that it was hard to label who exactly could and couldn’t fit in. Artists, businessmen, families of warmth, and those who struggled to find it in the city’s coldness were just some of the types of life who walked along these streets. But to force in on one very peculiar, young man, life was as great as it’d ever get to young Arthur Kirkland. 

The young, English man was in that golden stage of his life as he welcomed his newfound, youthful invincibility; an invincibility so unique to youth that as it is the only time when it is able to seduce the inexperience, underdeveloped decision making part of their mind. Arthur was no exception, feeling much like if he willed the ambition for it Monday, the world would be his the following Thursday. And as a light rain started, Arthur lit up a cigarette as he leaned against the wall of an alley. He didn’t care much about the rain nor that he probably shouldn’t be smoking in it, but he felt the need to ease some stress he hadn’t been aware of until he felt eyes upon him. Funny how stressful it is to feel as though you’ve been being watched for an entire four blocks walk. 

He pulled his hood over as he wore a hoodie under his leather jacket. It was… gross, Arthur thought to himself. In his mind, he was trying to reason with himself. Sure, he did run those four blocks instead of walking them. Sure, his show didn’t go as planned, and he knew his band could have done a lot better if he had done a better management job. And sure, he did look a bit suspicious to people who were more on the nitty picky side of things. Dyed hair, piercings, torn up jeans, combat boots, and a lot of black made older adults much more suspicious of you. Granted he probably wouldn’t even trust himself if he were on the other side of the spectrum, but he isn’t so he does. And in his young mind, he wrote most off as judgmental. 

By the time Arthur had finished his cigarette, he found himself perking back up to his confidence. He stepped on the butt of the cigarette, insuring that it went out before he picked up his guitar case and began to head back to his flat, despite how long it was on foot. However, there did appear to be something interesting that caught his attention as he began to make his long journey back to his flat. When he looked behind him, he noticed a rather large feline following him. Its little paws making diminutive splashes in the puddles behind him. It appeared to be a ragdoll as far as its features went. He could remember how much his mother obsessed over the breed; it’d be a shame if he couldn’t name the breed as he saw it. He tried to see if he was the one in the cat’s way for a moment, but each time he stopped, the cat stopped. Each time he took five steps in the other direction, the cat took five steps with him. Eventually, he leaned down to see if it was hurt or not which was when he discovered how remarkable the cat’s eyes were. 

The shade of blue seemed to glow with the same beauty of the setting sun, blessing the world a goodnight with its final warm moments. There was something about that shade of blue, about its intensity and the way it seemed to silently tell Arthur that he was not the only one who acknowledged his own thoughts. As crazy as it sounded, a cat knowing what he –a bloody person…was thinking… Albeit, it was enough for Arthur to deem the cat interest enough and since the cat seemed to have grown a liking to him and was rather clean, he picked up the feline and shielded it from the growing storm to keep it as dry as it had managed. The cat just closed its eyes and didn’t bother to show any rejection to Arthur’s motions as it was carried. Perhaps it was the cat that had been staring at him, as paranoid as it sounds, Arthur figured.   
When the two arrived at Arthur’s flat’s door, it was easy to say it wasn’t exactly a four star complex. The hallway lights were dim and one tended to flicker on and off as footsteps’ echoes bounced and light walls told the stories behind the doors. Someone was having sex, another was having an argument, and Arthur’s other floor neighbor just had loud, old timey music coming from the apartment itself. Arthur knew the resident was a soldier during World War II, and he figured the music reminded him of happier times and thus marked the old man the most tolerable of his neighbors. Arthur put his guitar down as he got out the keys to his apartment. 

It wasn’t much, but it got him by. The kitchen was beat up with an old fridge that had a light that didn’t work anymore. The living room was a mess of plates and papers which reminded him that he should be taking out the trash soon… The couch was old, the television was one of the better items in the room as was the fish tank he kept and managed to keep. The bedroom was in the worst shape, but at least his bed was comfortable. And sure the place had its noises and the electricity wasn’t exactly stable, but it was home and the view was amazing. And that was enough for Arthur to find enough worth in his home to not complain about it. He set his guitar case by the couch before he sat down with the cat he had picked up. 

“So now that we are in a drier place, how about we get better acquainted?” Arthur asked as he took off his jacket and unzipped his hoodie. The ragdoll just laid beside him, acknowledging Arthur’s existence only through an upward stare at the Brit. “You’re quite a strange thing, you know that. Some people would give me their money before they gave me their trust. Though… I guess cats aren’t people, are they?” Arthur chuckled a bit to himself on the thought. “I wonder who let you out…. You look expensive, not like any old mutt you find on the street.” It was supposed to be a compliment.

Before getting any more comfortable, Arthur got up to get a beer to calm his nerves. There’s nothing like a little poison to drown out his sober worries. However, when he returned to the living room, the cat was nowhere to be seen. In fact, the only presence other than himself was the man- no… no, he couldn’t call him a man. The horns, the tail, the wings- it wasn’t a man yet it resembled much like one. His hair was the color of black that blanketed the night sky with the absence of stars, his skin was pale in comparison to even Arthur (he hardly ever saw the light of day), his wings appeared to be bat-like, the texture appearing more of a leathery skin. But his eyes. They were the same intense blue that told Arthur he wasn’t alone in his thoughts for the second time that night…


	2. Bargaining

When Arthur finally came to his senses, he found himself still unable to move. It was as though sleep paralysis had taken over him yet he was standing and never did go sleep. However, the inability to move still ruled over and so did this… hallucination. Arthur tried to mentally coach himself out of it, but before he could so much as breathe a word of sense into himself, the creature before him decided to speak. “I must thank you for carrying me,” it said. Arthur could have found it humorous as he noticed just how proper, how genuine sounding the words rang, but the remark itself had a purpose that an obvious point out to the fact the creature was indeed the cat Arthur had carried to his flat. But the way the man-like creature had sounded so genuine was astonishing considering how both the situation and presentation of the thank you told otherwise. It make his spine shiver as he felt like he had once again been absorbed in an addiction where he knew better than to trust what his instincts were telling him. 

“What’s wrong?” the man smirked as he walked forward to Arthur. “Cat got your tongue?” His smile was as devious as the word could hold but there was still a sense of involuntary trust he had already given the stranger before him simply because of how alluring he seemed to be. Why was the devil beautiful? It was the only thing Arthur’s mind could foster up as the other reached up and caressed his cheek in an almost nurturing fashion, and suddenly, Arthur felt like he was once more in control of his own body. 

“Who are you?” Arthur asked as he smacked the other’s hand away. He backed up a bit until he realized he had been doing so and stopped himself in order to appear more in control of the situation than he actually was. The devil just stood there as though his legs were made of lead not because of fear but because of the aura of entitlement that surrounded him, glowing off him like the gleam of a medal. 

“I believe I asked you a question first.”

“I don’t play games!” Arthur yelled. “Tell me who you are or I’ll-“ 

“Or you’ll what, Arthur?” The devil took a seat once more before he took a seat on the couch, curiously looking around; however, disinterest was most obvious on his face. “I hope you don’t bring girls here. It’s messy. When was the last time you got laid? Or are you a virgin?” Arthur was outraged at the series of questions yet he had a cool enough head to not speak out against the strange creature. His instincts warned him not to as it appeared the devil creature knew more than he thought he did as was shown by the man calling him by his name without ever introducing himself. “That’s what I thought,” the devil added as he stared back at Arthur with a sly smile as he acknowledged Arthur’s silence as submission or pacifying from him earlier scolding. 

“Who are you and what do you what?” Arthur asked as he tightly crossed his arms across his chest and stood up straighter as though to appear large, imitating an animal trying to assert dominance. The devil frowned a bit before returning to that haunting grin Arthur wish he could smack off of him; that grin had confident shining off of it like the sun gave off heat, almost radiating.   
“My name is Alfred, and what I want is what you want, you see,” the other explained as he once more got up from the couch but instead of walking straight over to Arthur, he took a detour around the room, simply looking at Arthur’s things. “I’ve been watching you, you know how this speech goes. You’ve seen movies. I know you have. I go on and on about how I know you. I know what you fear, I know what kind of student you are, what position you sleep in-“

“If you knew that then you would have known whether I was a virgin or not,” Arthur muttered, giving Alfred his two cents, but he immediately regretted it afterwards. Sometimes his mouth just got the better of him. 

“Has anyone in this damn island told you what a rhetorical question was?” Alfred said in more of a laugh than a scolding. He continued on though, without any signs of anger which calmed Arthur a bit more. “I know you Arthur. You’re quite a complicated person. You say no when you mean yes, but you’re as stupid as any young person is around your age. I know you’ve ran away a few times. I know you’ve been on the street even more times. I know you’re in a band, and it’s getting nowhere other than a few shows at local bars on weekday nights when only the regulars come in,” Alfred droned. 

“Well fuck you too then,” Arthur muttered under his breath but whether or not Alfred heard, it was unclear. But if he did, he didn’t seem to care. “Get to the point already. I haven’t got all night.” 

“Yes, you do. You never wake up before eleven in the morning,” Alfred chuckled as he called Arthur out on his lie. “But I’m glad you seem to be getting the idea.”

“Was there a point to all this or are you just confessing you’ve stalked me like a lunatic and then you’ll be on your merry way?” Arthur asked. Alfred rolled his eyes a bit as he picked up a photo of Arthur’s family. 

“I always had a small appreciation for your mom. All boys, each of them having different fathers, each of them even more rebellious than the elder,” Alfred said as he stared at the photo. “You all gave her such hell,” he chuckled. 

“Oh wonderful. You’ve stalked my mum, too. Tell me, do you stalk everyone or is this a fucking compliment?” Arthur asked with a roll of his eyes. 

“Don’t get saucy,” Alfred warned as he put the photograph back down and then finally turned to look at Arthur. “My point is that I am here to offer you a deal, Arthur Kirkland. A deal that’s a rather… answer to your prayers.”

“I might be young, but I’m not stupid enough to sell my soul to you,” Arthur said as though it were a joke. 

“I don’t want your soul. Human souls aren’t things you simply take.”

“Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want so you can go ahead and leave.” 

“Not even if you start living the dream you’ve always wanted?” Alfred asked. “Fame? Fortune? Women? Men? All it at your command, just think about it, Arthur.” And the Brit had to admit it, it was a tempting deal. His eyes strayed away from Alfred as he thought about it. To be a famous musician was all he had ever wanted since as long as he could remember. It had always been the one thing that always pushed to play, pushed him when there was no home, pushed him even when the world was against him. It was just so tempting… He was startled when he felt Alfred’s hands squeeze his shoulders, and even the touch of the devil wasn’t what he had expected. Arthur thought he’d be cold, uneasy, and uncomfortable to even have a close proximity to, but he found himself wrong. If anything, Alfred felt welcoming, like the person you’d want to hold as he promised you sweet nothings. 

“Think about the crowd chanting your name,” he said in a quieter tone, but he wasn’t at a whisper. His voice was as intoxicating as liquor as Arthur felt himself easing into Alfred’s hold. The room around them faded into black as the surroundings began to change. He could hear the chanting of a large crowd, people screaming his band’s name, and the urge to take the limelight and run out on stage was as taking over every fiber of his body. “It’s all for you, Arthur,” Alfred reaffirmed. “Do you want it?” 

“I’d do anything for it,” Arthur responded on impulse, not even thinking about what he was answering or whom he was answering to. He just wanted to take that stage, to be on top of the world and have that excitement all to himself. 

“Then let’s make a deal,” the devil said as the illusion faded and put back the surroundings to the messy apartment. Alfred let go of Arthur and walked around the front of the Brit. “I will provide you all that; the fame, the money, etcetera,” Alfred said, “for the price of a favor.” 

“A favor?” Arthur asked as though he had misheard him. “That’s it? Just a favor?” 

“That is my only price.” 

“I’ll do it,” Arthur immediately answered without any sort of hesitation. He could feel every part of himself running with adrenaline as he stared at Alfred. “I want it. I want the damn contract or whatever the hell I have to do. Give it to me.” 

“Alright, alright,” Alfred replied with a smirk that hid his true intentions. “Shake my hand. I’m an American,” or so he proclaimed, “it’s only right if we shake on it.” Alfred held his hand as he stared directly into Arthur’s eyes. “So do we have a deal?” And without much more thought, Arthur took Alfred’s hand and shook it firmly. 

“We have a deal.” 

…

The next morning when Arthur woke up, he could have sworn last night didn’t happen. He laid there in bed as tried to think about what he had dreamed. A dream about him signing the deal of a lifetime. If only dreams like that had been true, but it was a rather odd dream. He couldn’t even recall getting into bed nor falling asleep for that matter…

He watched his ceiling fan continuously spin. It was such a cheap thing that moved rather slowly. Arthur had come to the assumption that the previous tenants of the flat had broken it before they left and never did anything about it. Maybe they assumed the landlord would have. Maybe they just didn’t care. Most people don’t usually care about anything unless it has to do with them, and that thought brought Arthur back to the dream he had with the dream. If most people don’t usually care about anything unless it has to do with them, what exactly would have the devil gained from just a lousy favor? He was a devil, wasn’t he? Well he appeared to be a devil, so Arthur assumed him to be but nothing added up or perhaps Arthur had underestimated the extent of a favor. Either way, it didn’t matter anymore. 

It was all a dream after all or so he believed. But the loud knocking on his front door was what snapped him out of his train of thought. It came in a series of threes; it was loud and quite startling. Arthur quickly got up from his bed as he wondered how the person hadn’t knocked down his door with the strength that was audibly present. “Coming, coming!” he called before he opened the door. “What the hell is it?”   
Standing before him was a man just around his age. He was tall, built, and wore a slimming black suit with a blue tie that matched the man’s eyes. His hair was a darker blonde than his was naturally and held a tan that stood out considering how much sun London usually got. He seemed vaguely familiar but Arthur couldn’t name how. Maybe he’d seen him at a bar, but Arthur would have been able to recall that better. Arthur never forgot attractive people. “Can I help you?” he asked the stranger in front of him until he made contact with the stranger’s eyes. It was once again that piercing blue. The one that spoke to him without words and sent a chill down his spin and suddenly he could recall the features of the man before him as though it hit him like a bag of bricks. But before Arthur could said anything, he responded. 

“My name is Alfred F Jones. I’ll be your manager from this day onward.”


End file.
